my first shit story
I was at a party in Eugene. We were playing the drinking game Asshole, and I was always the asshole. As the asshole, you're always drinking until everyone else stops. I did a twelve-pack in about forty-five minutes. Next thing I remember, I was being carried to the couch by my stoner roommate (we'll call him Stoney). The next place I remember being was on the shitter. I don't remember walking there, I just remember sitting there with my tidy whities around my ankles and a big log on the floor. After trying in vain to wipe my ass, I decided it was time to jump in the shower. The water wouldn't get hot and the drain was plugged up, so I ended up standing there with shit all over my ass and back, log-coated pants on the floor, in about a foot of ice-cold water. At that point I decided to bail. It was about 4:00 am and everyone else had gone home, including Stoney. I left my underwear there. As I staggered home, things started coming back. Before I was carried to the couch, I was lying face down on the hardwood floor puking my ass off. I hadn't puked in about ten years. I remembered that because I could smell puke in my hair as I walked home. As I entered the dorm, I was moaning and groaning and two security guys saw me go inside. They're all, "Are you okay?" and I'm all, "Euhhhh." I went up to my room to find Stoney and some skank in my bed, which left me his bed, raised up on crates, to try to stagger into. I went and took a shower. Later, the girl would claim that I came in and peed on the floor. This is bullshit, because from this point on I do remember everything. A few hours after passing out on my roommate's elevated bed as he snuggles with his skank on mine, I feel someone shaking my arm. It's Stoney. "Dude! Dude! You've got midterm review, Bro! You're late! You're late!" How this guy managed to remember that I had a middterm review is beyond me. So I stagger down there and the whole class stops to look at me like the drunk slacker ass-hole that I am. I slip into the back of the room and catch the last half of the class.
My plan at this point was to head back to the dorm, catch an hour-long nap, then go to my next class. It didn't work out that way. After getting home, I find the room empty. No Stoney. No Skank. I get into MY bed this time, and crash. A few minutes later Stoney comes in. "Hey Bro! How you feelin'?" "Euuuuuuh," was still all I could say. "Dude, I can't be-LEEEEEVE that chick was a virgin!" Still a little slow at this point, I'm like: "What chick?" "That chick I brought home last night. I fucked her, and then she tells me she was a virgin." Okay, he's telling me this WHILE I'M STILL IN THE BED WHERE THE DEFLOWERING TOOK PLACE. AHHHHHH!!!! I immediately jump out and start wiping myself off, like that would have helped. "Oh, no worries, dude. There's no blood. I checked." Great. There was just no way for me to find any reassurance in that statement. "But seriously, Dude. You've gotta get back over to the house and clean your SHIT up." Holy Fuck! The log! The underwear! As Cameron Frye would say, "Whooooooa! Ohhhhh shiiiiit!!!" "What do you mean?" I stammer. "Dude, you threw up all over the floor. And that's the rule. You puke, YOU clean it up, Bro." That I could handle. Maybe there really wasn't a log in a pair of my drawers on the floor in the shitter after all. I mean, I was drunk. Maybe I just imagined it. But I know I didn't imagine the shit on my back. That was there. No question. Oh well. I just went with the flow. It was Friday. It was all good, Bro. I told Stoney after my class I'd be over to de-puke his pals' living room floor. The Stoners were happy to see me. That was nice. After all, I was finally gonna clean up the 10-hour old puke. But more importantly, I was the entertainment. It's always good to have your entertainment back for another round. I politely declined their offer of a beer, because I didn't want to add to the puke mess I had to deal with. Much to my surprise, there wasn't that much to clean. So I got the job done fast. But I wasn't about to get out of there that easily. "Dude, when you're done, come outside and check this out." I walked past the couch and out the back door, thinking to myself "Hmmm, that's funny. What happened to that one couch cushion?" And there it was. Out on the grass in the backyard--that poor couch cushion. And my big, nasty, smashed, ground in, light-brown, refried bean-looking smeared pile on top of it getting eaten by a a bunch of flies. The stoner's little dog looked at me like, "Are you kidding me? You're a human, right? Way to be, Champ." Bracing for the worst humiliation of my life since tumbling down the stairs of a stranger's house on Halloween Night 1981 in my Big Bird costume, I hear one Stoner say to another, "You've gotta stop getting that dog stoned, Bro." "Dude, I know, I know. Such a bad one." Such a bad one, indeed. state of the log
|